


The Letters Sent to the Wrong Address (But Opened Anyway)

by Of_Heaven_And_Hell



Series: Something New [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Fluff, Insecurities, M/M, Scars, Self Harm, Sexy Times, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, au-ish, vague mentions of eating disorder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-05-16 17:21:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5834077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Of_Heaven_And_Hell/pseuds/Of_Heaven_And_Hell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So basically, I got inspired and started wondering what the 100 would do if their world included soul mates. The marks are each other's names on a part of the body. They're basically a scar carved into the skin.</p><p>Each pairing will be a separate part of the "Something New" series and will all likely have multiple chapters. The timelines may/ may not match up. These are the stories of how they find, love and lose each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Different Kind of Scar

Murphy was definitely, absolutely, positively not panicking.

Not at all.

Not even a little bit.

The burning that he felt on the inside of his wrist meant nothing. After all, limbs burn all the time- right? It didn't have to mean that he was close to finding his soulmate. He didn't need to worry, or think about seeing the look of disappointment on his mate's face when he realized that he'd just gotten stuck with John Murphy for the rest of his life. He didn't have to wonder how the other 100 would react when they saw that his soulmate was male- or how he himself would feel if his mate somehow turned out to be a girl.

Okay, so maybe limbs burned for no apparent reason all the time, but they definitely did not burn this much. Murphy felt as if all the skin on his wrist was disintegrating and he had to bite his other arm just to keep his screams muffled. His eyes squeezed shut, his skin was slick with sweat. He felt as if he was fucking suffocating- again.

His claustrophobia got the best of him and soon he was sprinting out of his tent, leaving his blankets in a crumpled heap. He didn't think about where he was going. He didn't care, he just needed to get out. He cradled his sizzling arm, letting the trees become blotches of color.

Murphy's desperation caused him to run into none other than Bellamy Blake, who he'd been trying to avoid since he'd come back from his lovely banishment. Lately seeing the leader had brought an ambush of unknown, and quite frankly awful, feelings into his gut.

 

"God damn it, Murphy, watch where you're going for once," Bellamy spit, but there was no real anger behind it. The older man looked as bad as Murphy felt and he'd never seen Bellamy so pale. He still managed to look good somehow, in a very "I'm dying" kind of way. Murphy watched as Bellamy's dark eyes raked over his body before finally meeting his own.

Almost immediately after they made eye contact, Murphy felt his breath stop. His spine straightened on its own accord and all the nerve endings in his body made themselves known. The pain in his wrist intensified but it no longer seemed to bother him, that is until he looked at it and saw the words "Bellamy Blake" etched into his skin.

Said person looked like he was going to vomit when he saw his name make it's way onto Murphy's flesh. Bellamy touched the area right above his left collarbone and Murphy saw his name sitting above the bone in scratchy letters, looking as if it belonged there.

It was the best thing he'd ever seen.

It was the worst thing he'd ever seen.

He knew that he didn't deserve Bellamy, in any way. He wished he did but he never had and he probably never would. Yes, Bellamy had done wrong but he had found a way to fix his shortcomings. Murphy was still the bad guy; was still sin and death an-

"Murphy... are you okay,?" Bellamy's voice was the only thing that could break through Murphy's oncoming panic attack.

He wanted to tell Bellamy that he was very much not okay, but his vocal cords had lost the ability. He wanted to tell him to leave and never come back. He wanted to tell him that this was all he had ever wanted, to beg him not to leave; that he'd be better. (He was suddenly very grateful for his lack of words)

He really wanted to tell Bellamy to stop taking hesitant steps towards him, as he was doing now. Maybe even to get his grimy hands off of his face. He figured it'd also be pretty good to let him know that at this point most of the 100 were watching their exchange.

Almost as if he'd read Murphy's mind, Bellamy looked up at their audience. "Don't you all have jobs?," he growled at the teens; dragging Murphy by the hand towards their makeshift hospital.

 

Once they'd arrived, Murphy's panic only seemed to get worse. Tears were now unabashedly streaming down his face and his breathe somehow became shallower.

"Come on Murph," Bellamy whispered. One of his hands cupped Murphy's cheek and the other traveled up his shirt, feeling his heartbeat. "Breath with me, okay, can you do that for me?"

Murphy nodded and focused on making his chest rise when Bellamy's did. He made sure to (try to) ignore the sparks that danced along his skin around Bellamy's hand. 

"You're doing great," Bellamy murmured, relieved to feel Murphy's heart slowing down.

As soon as Murphy realized he wasn't going to die of asphyxiation, he realized he was probably going to die of embarrassment. It was one thing to have a breakdown alone in his tent, but in front of Bellamy (and who knows however many others) was too much. He was definitely going to die. He might even kill himself.

"Fuck, shit, sorry you weren't supposed to see that," he sputtered as he attempted to stand.

"Hey, calm down. It's fine." Bellamy's voice was gentler than he'd ever heard it, but that only made him feel worse.

"No it's really not. That just had to happen in front of you, of all people. Jesus, you probably think I'm so lame right now."

"Octavia gets them alot," The older boy muttered, looking more through Murphy than at him. "They aren't anything to be ashamed of; you can't help it."

Murphy wasn't sure how to respond to Bellamy's kindness with anything other than an "I'm sorry", but that was the kind of thing you said out of politeness rather than sincerity. To be fair, he knew that he didn't have a strong enough bond with Octavia or Bellamy to actually be sincere anyway but he really wanted to, someday. So he just kept his mouth shut, for once.

The two of them stayed on the ground like that for a while, Murphy in between Bellamy's legs with his back against the wall and his head against his soul mate's collarbone, right where his name laid. He almost fell asleep for the first time in two days, until Bellamy spoke.

"What's wrong with having a panic attack in front of me?"

"What?" Murphy lifted his head to look him in the eye.

"Earlier- you asked why it had to happen in front of me 'of all people'."

"Oh," Murphy deadpanned, and here he had thought that Bellamy was intelligent. "Who would want to cry in front of the person about to reject them?"

"I was never going to reject you."

Murphy rolled his eyes. After all, anyone with half a brain would reject him. Hell, he'd reject himself if he could. He wasn't a child and he didn't need Bellamy to spare his feelings. He started to get up, but he was quickly pulled back down by Bellamy. He landed a little too close to Bellamy's unmentionables, just his luck, and sent a quick 'thank you' to the gods when the freckled boy ignored it.

"I'm serious. Yes, I was surprised at first but I'm glad that it's you. You're smart and strong and I'm sure I'll never be bored with you around," He leaned down to whisper in Murphy's ear, "and you aren't too hard on the eyes either." 

Murphy tried to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat and looked down at the name permanently carved into his skin. He ran his finger over it, admiring how beautiful the red cursive looked on top of a jagged scar on his tender flesh. He remembered the night he made the imperfection, remembered guilt flooding his body as Raven blamed him, tried to sacrifice him to the grounders. He remembered how Bellamy had stopped her.

Slowly he looked back up at Bellamy, searched his face and hesitantly said "I'm glad it's you too."


	2. Good Mistakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memories resurface, and Murphy's having trouble fighting them off. Bellamy helps without knowing it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a filler chapter, but I hope you enjoy anyway!

//Murphy is back in the grounder's torture room- or had he never really left?

Their whips are biting into his flesh again. If he watches it happen he'd see how it takes his body a second to bleed, as if it too can't believe this is happening.

Their knives are kissing his skin again, leaving behind trails of lipstick stains in the color that his mother used to wear. His father never cared much for the extreme color, and he hadn't either, but here he was wearing it all the same. He'd like to press deeper into the blade, maybe end it all now, but he is bound too tightly.

Grounder Princess is standing before him again. She keeps screaming for answers and he doesn't have any, or maybe he does, but he knows he's not supposed to tell and so he doesn't.

Until he does. It's only been three days and he knows he's weak but, God, he hurts so much and he wants it to be over. So he tells them, whatever they want and even more. He tells them about his bedroom when he was eight and how much he loved his mother and his first friend and his last friend and how his last friend felt like he could've been something more until he kicked the damn crate. He keeps talking and he doesn't stop until they threaten to break his jaw.

He expects the pain to be over after he gives them what they want. But it isn't, and now he's as stupid as he is weak. The Princess smiles as she gives her warriors permission to use him as they saw fit. They all smile too. Murphy does not. 

They are all fighting for their turn. They are spitting at him, onlookers laughing, hurling insults in a language he hopes to never learn. Teeth leave marks, grips leave bruises on his hips, each thrust hits his head against the wall.

He begs for them to stop so much that they actually do break his jaw this time.

His stitches are ripping and he's begging and they're wrapping their fingers around his throat and he can't brea--

 

When Murphy wakes up, he is still screaming for help but the sound is blocked by upcoming bile. It lands on his clothes and his hair and his bed- or rather, someone else's bed. Frantically, he pushes himself out of the furs and searches for familiarity. He sees Bellamy, making his way towards him with long, purposeful strides. He reaches him quickly, sitting down next to him in spite of the mess.

"You okay, Murphy?" Bellamy's hoarse morning voice is almost enough to to make him forget- almost.

"Yes, I just, I mean- where am I?" He forces the sentence out, determined to not look any weaker than he already did.

"Oh, yea," Bellamy scratched the back of his neck nervously, looking much closer to his age than Murphy had ever seen him. " You fell asleep while we were talking last night, so I brought you to my tent."

Murphy's head was still hazy with sleep and memories, but he tried to make sense of Bellamy's words. Once he remembered all that had happened yesterday, he groaned. He'd only had a soul mate for two days and he'd embarrassed himself twice. That had to be a record. "Octavia doesn't mind?" He asked, hoping to bring himself back to reality.

Bellamy's face lite up for some reason unknown to Murphy, his eyes sparkling in the sun. "No, of course not, any reason to be with Lincoln is a good one." The older boy looks down at his mate and, as if remembering the predicament, gets up quickly. He finds some spare clothes and tosses them gently at Murphy.

The brunette takes them hesitantly and crosses the room before telling Bellamy to turn around. He felt very girly doing so, but he remembered how Bellamy had reacted when he'd seen the aftermath of his torture. He'd called him weak, said he should've held out longer. Murphy knows he was right, but he doesn't want his scars reminding Bellamy of that fact.

Luckily, Bellamy doesn't question him. He only smiles lazily, throwing the words "Don't worry, I won't look- unless you want me to." over his shoulder. He busies himself with cleaning up the mess on his sister's bed.

Murphy takes off his soiled shirt slowly, and quickly replaces it with the borrowed hoodie. He shudders slightly at the squelching sound his Henley makes as it hits the dirt. The hoodie reaches his knees, and Murphy sighs inwardly. The clothes given to the 100 never fit right, but this is ridiculous; anyone with eyes would know that the shirt wasn't his. Still, he pulls up the pants, expecting them to fall right back off. He gets them up halfway before he realizes that they fit perfectly, snug even. His eyes dart back and forth between Bellamy's thighs and his own, before yanking up the bottoms fully.

"Bellamy." Murphy's voice sounds pinched, even as he tries to calm himself down.

"Murphy?" Bellamy replies without turning around.

"Did you really give me your sister's pants?" Bellamy does turn around this time, cackling like the bastard he is. He at least has the decency to try to muffle the sound with his hands. "It isn't funny!" Murphy growls, even as he starts laughing himself.

Bellamy's still got that stupid grin on his face when he looks back up at his mate. "They fit you perfectly, though." He says as his eyes rake over Murphy's body. 

There wasn't much he could say to refute that, it was true after all, but he sure as hell wasn't going to agree. Instead he rolls his eyes and kneels down, helping Bellamy finish up the task.

He apologizes constantly, even though it hurts to do so. Murphy's always had too much pride, he can feel it crawling its way back up his throat now. Bellamy's worth a little effort though, so he continues even when Bellamy tells him not to worry about it. 

His shoulder brushes Murphy's twice, each time it sends butterflies to his stomach and hope into his heart.

Finally, they are done and Bellamy invites him have dinner with the group. Murphy doesn't like crowds, or eating, but he likes Bellamy and he figures nothing comes without a price. He's certain it's a mistake, but what's one more?

Besides, if there's such a thing as good bacteria then maybe there's such a thing as good mistakes.

The shy smile that graces Bellamy's face at the answer makes him think there is.

 

As soon as they're out of the tent, Bellamy's fingers lace with his own perfectly. It is not tight enough to remind him of the hands of grounders, or loose enough to leave room for doubt. It's nice, and Murphy's afraid he's already used to it.

The walk is nice but it's over quickly. His back straightens when he sees them, gathered in a circle. Bellamy quirks an eyebrow, his face really is going to get stuck like that one day, and murmurs "They're going to love you."

Murphy wants to ask how Bellamy knew that was the problem, but he doesn't. Instead he states "They never have before."

Bellamy doesn't hesitate, doesn't stop to think that maybe he shouldn't care about Murphy either. He only smiles sadly, and says "True, but you've never wanted them to before."

Murphy zones out, pictures a life where he could be loved. He realizes a little too late that he's been staring at the older boy's pretty eyes and perfect mouth, which is now curved upward into a cocky smirk. "Who says I want them to now?" He asks, hoping it'll save some of his dignity. (It doesn't)

Bellamy only laughs in response, leading Murphy into the circle by the hand and seating them beside Octavia and Lincoln. 

"Who else would be voted "Most likely to succeed"? It's clearly me. Bellamy, what do you think?" Raven turns to him, pausing when she sees Murphy. Her jaw basically hits the floor when she looks down and finds their hands entwined. The entire group sits in silence for a few seconds before Monty speaks.

"One night stand?" He asks.

"Or many night stands?" Jasper finishes, laughing quietly at himself. He isn't deterred by Miller's jab to the ribs in the slightest.

Bellamy smiles, his hand tightening around Murphy's. He reaches up to the collar of his shirt and pulls it down, allowing the circle to see the name written above his collarbone. They all lean in closer, completely silent once more. It only lasts a second and soon there are gasps and shrieks of delight.

Octavia squeals, hopping out of Lincoln's lap and onto Murphy's. She searches his body for his mark, pulling at his hair and clothes. She rolls up his sleeves, finding it on his left wrist. Her thumbs traces her brother's name as she studies it. Murphy can tell the exact moment she sees the puffed scar that the mark rests on because her body stiffens. Her eyebrows knit together as she realizes that it was self-inflicted and when she looks up at him, there are tears in her eyes.

"Welcome to the family." She whispers as she hugs him. He doesn't know how to even begin to respond to her kindness but he settles with saying thank you- a feat in and of itself. O smiles and leaps off him; gone as quick as she came.

"Damn it! I had my bet on Harper." Raven sighed, looking genuinely distressed. Finn places his hand on her knee, claiming that a grounder would have been more likely.

Clarke smiles, passes the new couple some food before saying "I knew it'd be you all along." For some reason, that sentence stays with Murphy even after the conversation shifts. The idea that someone besides him believes in their bond makes it seem a little less random, a little more important.

 

Dinner goes smoothly, for the most part. There are a few times when Bellamy tells him to eat more and he has to force something down in order to keep his mate from worrying. He doesn't always know what to say or when to say it but Bellamy holds his hand the whole time and that makes everything more bearable. 

They end up back in Bellamy's tent, on his bed. They're on opposite sides and the space feels awkward and forced but it also feels familiar and comfortable to Murphy, who hasn't really touched anyone since his father died. 

He's about to leave when Bellamy grabs his hand, pulling him back down to the bed. "You can stay, if you want."

"Like, the night?" Bellamy gives him a disbelieving look, which he totally deserves because yes, that was a truly stupid thing to ask. 

"Actually no, I was thinking you'd wake up at three just to leave." Bellamy's voice dripped sarcasm. Murphy rolled his eyes again, knowing he set himself up for that one. He isn't quite sure what answer to give Bellamy. There were so many reasons for him to say no; his nightmares, or his claustrophobia. He'd had a really good day, and it seemed stupid to push his luck.

But Murphy was never good at knowing his boundaries and Bellamy was giving him puppy dog eyes, so he ended up agreeing before he even realized that he opened his mouth.

He couldn't find it in himself to regret it, especially when Bellamy's arms encircled him. He knew he should, he was getting too attached to something too good to be true but staying made Bellamy happy and so it made him happy.

Bellamy fit his head into the crook of his mate's neck, his breathe leaving goosebumps on Murphy's throat. One of them tangled their legs together and the younger boy's hands disappeared into Bell's hair. Said person had lost his shirt somewhere in between the cuddles and the feel of his bare skin sent fire to Murphy's gut. 

Murphy was already burning; their body heat and his blush and Bellamy's hot breathe against his skin was all enough to give him a fever.

It was far too much and yet, it wasn't enough at all because Bellamy still hadn't kissed him and that was all he really needed. It was driving him crazy, how he could be brought so close to paradise with just Bellamy's gentle caresses and quiet whispers. He was practically shaking with need as he stared at Bellamy's lips, too afraid to give himself what he so badly wanted. Bellamy had another smirk plastered on his face as his hand danced its way to the hem of Murphy's bottoms, reaching in and bringing him closer with slow, purposeful movements. 

His mind started to bring up memories of similar situations with grounders, but Bellamy leaned in closer and kissed him with a passion that Murphy never knew existed. It was everything he'd been too afraid to hope it would be, leaving him sated and frustrated all at the same time. It silenced his thoughts, at least for now, and finally tipped him over the edge he'd been teetering on for an hour. 

When he finally calmed down, chest still heaving, he curled back into Bell's open arms. "Do you want me to do you?" He asked sleepily. Bellamy smiled, shook his head and linked their fingers. 

He licked lazy trails down Murphy's neck, drew stories onto his back. Murphy knew that they hadn't even started their life together, knew that he still had secrets that might tear them apart, knew that Bellamy didn't love him yet, and maybe he never would. That was okay, because he might love him one day and that chance was more than he'd ever had before.


	3. Fists and Wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not everyone loves the idea of Murphy and Bellamy together.
> 
> (Forgiveness is often hard fought)

Sweat dripped down the slope of Murphy's nose in the afternoon sun. He'd started working as soon as dawn broke, maybe even a little before, and the aches in his body proved it. Fixing the gate was hard work, lots of heavy lifting that Murphy wasn't made for. He lacked the muscle, especially since he hadn't eaten in a day or two.

The boy sighs as his slick palm almost looses its grip on the ladder as he climbs down. He shrugs his jacket off, wiping at his brow as soon as his feet hit the ground. His dizziness makes the simple task harder than it should of been and he's so focused that he doesn't hear the deep laughter moving towards him. He does feel their presence behind him, though, and tries to turn around before his leg is kicked out from under him. His face smacks into the mud, sticks and grass irritating the cuts that already reside there.

"How's it going Murphy?" One of the teens asked cruelly.

He looks up at the older boy and the two others with him. He recognized one of them as the boy who stole his jacket the other day.

"You look a little bored, want us to help out with that?" Murphy rolled his eyes at that, mumbling a 'float yourself'. It wasn't exactly uncommon for people to hate him before, and the mating between himself and Bell hadn't changed that much. Of course, some of the 100 had let him off the hook because of their bond, but many's hatred had only grown. They never did anything in front of Bellamy, they weren't stupid, but the two were seperated often lately, leadership demanding Bell's attention.

A kick to already sore ribs punished him for his undesired response. "You'd think Bellamy would have taught him how to shut up and follow orders by now."

Murphy's lack of air went unnoticed as he fumed. That bitch had no right to say Bellamy's name like that, like he was some God that the kid worshipped. He stood on shaky legs and threw the best punch he could. The world was still spinning, so it's wasn't very good at all, but it hit its mark.

The defiance sparked something in the trio and they all pounced. The world spun more than before as fists intermingled, bruises blossomed. He's not quite sure how long it lasts; the minutes are only broken up by his falling down, getting up again, a particularly hard hit.

"Murphy?" Clarke's light voice floats to the group and the delinquents scatter like roaches from light. But Clarke wasn't his light, and so he desperately tries to stand before she realizes how pathetic he is. He only makes it to his knees before the blonde catches sight of him.

"Oh my god, what happened?" She's kneeling in the mud beside him in record time.

"Nothing, I'm fine." He sighs, trying to figure out which Clarke is the real one. He's pretty sure it's supposed to be the middle one, but he thinks that one's the most blurred.

"Who did this to you?"

"Why do you care?" He growls, pushing her away just as she comes into focus. "I need to get back to work."

"Ill have someone else finish up. And because then we can give them a punishment. Or stop this from happening again. Or-"

"That's not what I meant and you know it." He spits, standing up only to almost crumble back to his knees. Clarke catches him, throws an arm over her shoulder and begins to walk. She doesn't answer, he knows why. This is all for Bellamy, has nothing to do for him. He's been trying so hard, been contributing as much as he can, kept his mouth shut and she still hasn't forgiven him for what wasn't even his fault.

The rush of anger proves too much for his frail body, and the world stops spinning long enough to become black.

 

He wakes just as she and Lincoln settle him onto a bed in the infirmary

"Get off me." He rips his arm away, as she begins to work. "I don't want to be here."

She looks like she's going to argue for a second, but notices how his eyes shift nervously between the rows of other patients. She whispers something to Lincoln and the man lifts him easily, carrying him to a more secluded area. The blonde yanks the curtain closed behind them.

"I meant the infirmary in general." She doesn't respond to his comment and the silence pisses him off.

"Octavia went to get your lover, he should be here soon." Lincoln tells him.

Murphy groans, throwing his head back- he really hadn't wanted Bellamy to see him like this. The man asked too many questions, demanded too many answers.

"Can you take your shirt off?" Clarke asks, eyebrows raising at the quick 'no' she gets in response.

Her mouth opens, but the shifting curtain cuts her sentence off as it reveals the Blake's.

Bellamy stalks towards him, a murderous glint in his eyes. "Who did this to you?" The man asks slowly, clearly hardly holding himself together.

"No one."

"No one?" Bell genuinely laughs at that, but the sound is mean and grates against him. "That's bullshit, Murph, and we both know it," He's in between Murphy's legs now, each breath fans over the younger boy's face, "so who did it?"

"I just fell Bell, I swear." The words are feeble, unbelievable to even the most gullible person.

Bellamy looks to Clarke, who gives an almost unnoticeable shake of her head before speaking. "Murphy, I still need to check your injuries. It'll just be us and Bellamy if you want."

The wounded boy just shakes his head, looking at Bellamy's hands, tightened around the edge of the table so much that his knuckles are the same color as Murphy's skin. He gathers up his courage, whispering "I want you to go, Bell."

"Excuse me?" His mate sputters. Murphy doesn't look up from the man's grip on the table, doesn't see the shocked looks of the onlookers, the hurt on the elder's face.

"I said, I don't want you here for the exam."

"Murph, I want to see how bad it is. I'm not gonna-"

"I said I want you to go!" Murphy snapped, instinctively flinching away as soon as the words left his mouth. This time he does look up, and he sees a look of anger that Bellamy hasn't directed at him in a long time.

The man mumbles a 'fine' before storming out, Octavia and Lincoln going with him. Murphy looks up at the ceiling, forcing himself to stop the tears that threaten to fall. He hears Clarke call him and rolls his eyes as he rips the damn shirt off his body.

She doesn't gasp at the sight of his mangled torso but her eyes widen comically, her steps falter. He looks away before she does, not wanting to see her pity. Not that it was really him that she pitied.

His body was marred, burns and cuts stretched over him. There were marks from torture devices that the Sky People didn't even know about. Old infections left some of the skin unnatural colors, new blood and bruises accentuating the thin, pale scars that couldn't normally be seen.

He was expecting a huge spiel about his inability to keep their secrets or how pitiful he is, so when she finally speaks, her words catch him off guard.

"When's the last time you ate?"

"What?" He blanched.

"How long has it been?" She asks in horror, eyes glued to his bones, stretched beneath skin so thin she thought it might split.

"I ate this morning, Clarke."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"Its the truth," he sees the doubt in her eyes, makes up a story on the spot, "the grounders didn't feed me when I was at their camp. I still can't eat too much, my body isn't used to it." He puts on his most innocent face as she studies him.

"Does Bellamy not know? Is that why you wanted him to leave?"

"He knows. I just don't like him seeing..." He trails off, looking down at his torso.

She catches the hint, gives him tips on how to keep food down as she stitches him back together. He adds the lies to his list of sins.

She cuts the last piece of string as they first hear the yelling. "Never a dull moment here." She sighs, wrapping his arm.

Rushed footsteps move towards them and he gets his shirt on before Octavia runs in, chest heaving. "He found them," she tells Clarke, eyes flitting to Murphy. "The ones that hurt Murph."

"Fuck."


	4. Hands Full of Each Other's Damage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murphy and Bellamy kinda make up.

Immediately after the words tumbled from her lips, Murphy was running past her. He wasn't sure where he stood with Bellamy, how hard the argument hit them or how hard he had wanted it to. He wasn't sure of much, except that his mate could be hurt and his legs were moving.

Octavia, despite being out of breath before even arriving, quickly got ahead of him, guiding the two through camp and crowds. She pushes her way through the circle formed around the fight, even though most moved out of their way automatically.

Murphy's heart drops as he makes his way to his mate. There are four guys already on the ground as Bellamy lands a punch to the last delinquent's face, Murphy can practically feel his nose breaking. The dumb ass is clutching his face as blood seeps through his fingers. "Look, it's not my fault-" another punch cuts his words off.

Murphy watches, shell shocked as the kid falls to the ground, gets kicked in the ribs. He knows he's going to get blamed for his mate's outburst. Octavia marches to Lincoln, who stands in the circle, screaming "I told you to stop him."

He hears Lincoln say "I would have done the same thing." as he runs to his Bellamy.

"Bell, come on," He pleads, grabbing onto the boy's sleeve, "he's had enough."

He rakes his eyes over Murphy's body, sees the blood that clings to his shirt where his stitches ripped. "Go back to the infirmary, Murphy."

"No, I can take care of myself. I don't need your help. Besides, only three of these guys were even there."

"I know that, the rest just need to learn to keep their mouth shut," he turns his attention to Lincoln, "take him back to the hospital."

Murphy feels Lincoln grab his waist and latches onto his mate's arm. "Please, Bellamy, just calm down. For me." He whispers, keenly aware of their audience.

The freckled boy takes a deep breath to steady himself. He nods to Murphy after giving the kid one last kick, this one landing on his stomach. "If any of you touch him again, you'll get much worse." He threatens the crowd before stalking off towards the woods.

His mate slumps, relieved until he makes eye contact with one of the bloody messes on the ground, who glares at him through his eye that isn't swollen shut.

 

Clarke has her hands full of Bellamy's damage, so Lincoln fixes his stitches in Murphy's tent. "You should've stopped him." He spits to the man, but he's so tired there's no bite to it.

"Would you have stopped if someone had done that to him?"

"That's not the same-"

"Its exactly the same." Lincoln responds, looking up from his now finished work. Murphy wants to tell him that it really isn't, because people need Bellamy and because he deserves it. But he doesn't.

Octavia walks in without knocking, three bowls of food and bottles of Monty's moonshine balanced in her arms. "Your place is... quaint." She says dropping a bowl and a bottle into his hands.

"Remind you of home?" He asks, referencing her time under the floor. His tent, if one could call it that, was probably as big as her old hiding space. There were holes everywhere, mud on the ground from the last rain. He had few things of his own, a dirty change of clothes and a worn book.

"Shut up." She snorted, seeming genuinely impressed with the joke. He stares up at her, awe in his gaze. He knew how much those jokes used to affect her and he has no idea how she healed so well that she could laugh about her wounds. He hasn't even begun to heal. "Bellamy hasn't gotten you a better tent yet?"

"He doesn't know yet."

"Oh." She smiles, nodding as she ate.

"When's he coming back?"

"He'll probably be in his tent when we're done," she throws a wink in his direction before looking down at his untouched bowl. "You're not hungry." She says it like a statement, but he knows she's waiting for an answer.

"You should eat, you lost a lot of blood." Lincoln tells him after he sees the shake of his head. In the end, Murphy does take a few bites to avoid passing out after he downs half of Monty's mix.

 

As soon as they leave, he goes to Bellamy's tent. He lifts the flap, hesitantly walking inside.

"Hi." He says dumbly.

His mate smiles slightly, putting his work down. Murphy lets out a breathe he didn't know he was holding, knowing Clarke must not have told him if he seemed relieved, happy, to see him.

Bellamy opens his arms, folding Murphy into them once he got close enough. "I didn't think you were coming tonight."

"I wanted to make sure you were alright." The younger boy whispers, pulling his head back to look at the cut on his mate's face. "Does it hurt?"

"I'm fine, I should be asking you that." He says as Murphy's fingers trail over the wound.

He shrugs, "I'm used to it."

The words make Bellamy's face twist, sadness marring his features. He looks like he wants to say something reassuring, but the words won't leave his throat (Murphy knows that feeling well) so he captures Murphy's mouth with his own instead.

The kiss is bruising from the beginning, both of them using the affection to communicate their unresolved confusion and anger. Murphy's thin fingers weave through his mate's thick hair, pull at it enough to hurt. The freckled man leans back, pulling his shirt over his head on one swift movement, back in Murphy's space before it even touches the ground. He keeps his tongue in other's mouth while he removes his pants; Murphy's had enough of Monty's liquor to do the same.

His legs have scars too, but Bellamy never falters when he touches them; hand traveling down his leg until it wraps around his ankle, yanking gently so the younger boy falls onto his back.

He looks up at the leader, pupils blown and lips swollen. Bellamy wonders how he got so floating lucky as he leans down, grinding into the boy and Murphy becomes painfully aware of the fact that his mate had gone commando.

"You're so kinky." He gasped as Bellamy latched onto his throat, making countless love bites on the pale skin. Murphy felt the laugh more than he heard it; the elder dragging himself up to his ear, nibbling the sensitive skin and mumbling a 'shut up'. His hand reaches down, eliciting an awfully high pitched sound that Murphy would definitely deny later.

Moments passed quicker than they ever had before, leaving the two flushed with heat, panting. Murphy's legs were around Bellamy's waist, rocking against him until the other boy reaches for the hem of his shirt.

In a second he'd flinched away from his mate, almost succeeded in knocking himself out on one of the tent poles.

"What's wrong?" Bell whispered, eyes wide in panic and hair still sticking up.

"I just, I.. I mean-" His voice shakes, as he's suddenly unable to get enough air into his lungs.

"Hey, it's okay. Just breath, alright?" He murmurs, moving slightly away from him. 

Murphy nods, a little more frantically than necessary, focusing on inhales and exhales. He wraps his arms around his knees, trembling slightly. It takes a few tries before he can force the words out, but once he does the dam breaks and they all rush to the surface. "I just don't want you to see me without my shirt. I mean, everyone knows you're attractive but I'm just not. At all. And I have scars, like a lot of them. And they're gross. And I don't think I'm ready for...this. Its not that I don't want to be- I'm just not. I'm sorry."

Bellamy stayed silent until he finished, taking it all in. "You are attractive, Murphy." Said person rolled their eyes, and Bell huffed in frustration, "I'm serious- I think, know, you are. I have since we first landed and I don't know why you can't see what I do, but it doesn't matter. We all have scars, this is earth. We've gone to war and our bodies are going to show it." He stares into the younger boy's eyes, silently pleading with him to understand.

He doesn't, but he felt like he might, maybe, be able to. One day.

"We don't have to do anything now, we can just sleep." He mumbles into Murphy's hair. Bell's easygoingness calmed him down, even though the idea of sleeping worked him up again. Sleeping after a day like today would mean nightmares, and he wasn't sure he could handle them this time.

"Can we stay up a bit?"

Bellamy nodded, his face lighting up as he spoke, "I just found this new book on Greek mythology, i didn't think it would be, but it's actually really good."

"You're such a nerd." He snickers.

"I'm your nerd." Bellamy laughs, finding the novel and finally putting on a pair of shorts.

Murphy lets himself get pulled onto his mate's lap, legs wrapped around his back and head resting over his own name. The response brings a smile to Murphy's mouth, and he turns his face to hide it (his mate's head is already big enough) as he traces his mark, fingers trailing over Bellamy's name.

Said person wraps his own free hand around his bonded as he begins to read. The brunette feels each word, Bell's jaw moving on the top of his head. The older boy, all freckles and chuckles, reads for hours; reads until his mate drifts off to sleep, until he does too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys like this chapter, I know I'm not the best at steamy(ish) scenes. Let me know if you're interested in having a chapter more from Bellamy's point of view below, and have a great day :)


	5. All Good Things...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a short, mostly fluffy chapter.

Murphy's eyes open, immediately assaulted by the early morning sun that penetrated the thin lining of Bellamy's tent. He casts his eyes down to avoid the nuisance and comes face to face with Bell. The man's still sleeping, hair falling messily around his face like a halo. It seemed that they hadn't moved much since they fell asleep; Murphy's legs on either side of his mate's body, Bellamy's hand still clutching his nerdy book.

Watching the man sleep reminded him of the days when they first landed; back when everything was so much simpler, so much easier (back when they didn't think it could get any harder). Back when Murphy was sure he'd only ever be another one of Bellamy's lackeys. In sleep, the older man's face is unguarded, like Murphy's never seen it. Even last night, under blankets and moonlight, Bellamy was still cautious. Not hesitant, or afraid, like Murphy but forever wary; the younger boy knew that Bellamy would always honor the bond, but he wasn't sure if he'd ever believe in it. (Murphy was afraid that while Bellamy would always hold him, it'd forever be at arms length.)

Of course, he couldn't blame Bellamy. After all, it's hard to accept something good after so much bad.

And it's a hypocritical thought, he knows it, but he thinks it all the same; hopes they'll be able to make it less of a reality one day.

It's recklessness that uncurls his fist, traces invisible trails between Bellamy's freckles. But it's that hope that makes him continue even as the man stirs.

"Good morning," The man mumbles around his fingers. And it is, Murphy thinks, after hearing Bell's morning voice; a sea of velvet hidden under sandpaper.

There's so much shit that Murphy wants to say to that, all sentimental and romantic, but instead he smirks and tells Bellamy that his breath stinks, even though it doesn't.

The older man rolls his eyes before whispering "Last night was fun". Which is confusing to say the least because they hadn't even really done anything, but Murphy wasn't one to back down- even when it wasn't a competition.

"I've heard that before."

"Like hell you have," Bellamy laughs.

Murphy sputters, "Don't laugh, I have." (He hadn't.)

Bell gives him an amused look. "Are you trying to convince me you're not a virgin?"

The words cause Murphy to almost choke to death, quickly removing himself from his mate's bare chest. "I most definitely am not."

"You've had sex before?" Bellamy's still teasing him, and Murphy really wishes he was still asleep.

"Of course I've done...it."

"Sex?"

"Yes, Bellamy, I've had- it."

"You can't say the word sex," Bellamy grins, clearly enjoying this awful moment. "That's very virgin of you."

"I'm not-" Murphy goes to protest again, but the words get cut off as Bellamy flips them over. His palms now lay flat on either side of Murphy's head, his smirking face mere inches from the one beneath him.

"Yes, you are. And there isn't anything wrong with that," He speaks against Murphy's throat.

"Yes, because inexperience turns everyone on."

He's being a sarcastic shit, but Bellamy smiles anyway because at least he isn't denying it anymore. "No, but getting to teach you does. Having you all to myself does," He sees the disbelief on Murphy's face. "No one but me has ever touched you, right?"

Murphy swallows loudly, cheeks burning. He nods without making eye contact, "Just you, Bell."

The whisper sounds so unsure that Bellamy gently grips his mate's chin, forcing Murphy to look at him. "Seriously, that isn't anything to be embarrassed about." 

The eye contact threatens to reduce Murphy to a puddle but he's had enough of acting like a little bitch, thanks.

He flips them over so he's on top again, aware that they wouldn't of moved if Bellamy hadn't wanted them to. "If you ever bring this up again, I'll fight you."

The older man pretends to be contrite. "I've never been so afraid in my whole life."

"Bellamy."

The older man's facade cracks, a smirk spreading across his face. "I'm serious. Grounders? War? That's all a piece of cake compared to the wrath of you, a tiny teenage boy."

Murphy cuts him off with a growl, sitting up and looking for something to throw at his mate. Said person is as unaffected as usual, smirking as he gives Murphy a kiss on his forehead before he gets out of bed.

It's a nice sight, watching his mate get dressed for the day ahead. Bellamy catches sight of him, a tiny huddle of blankets, and winks as he takes off his pants in the most unnecessarily obscene way. "Like what you see?"

The sight pulls a laughing fit from the brunette and he has to wonder how Bellamy managed to pull that off with a straight face. "You are honestly the lamest person I've ever met."

"I'm positive that's not true." Bellamy snorts, pulling his rifle over his shoulder. "I have to go, you can stay here or I'll bring you to yours, but you've got to take it easy. I'll-"

"What do you mean take it easy? I have to go to work." Murphy calmly explains, thinking Bellamy's lost his damn mind.

"Clarke's already cleared you for the rest of the week. You're on bed rest."

"Like hell I am." Murphy sputters, knowing now that Bellamy's definitely lost his fucking mind. He stands up a little too quick in his anger and winces as his stitches stretch.

"Like hell you aren't." Bell's hands hover protectively over the wound even before his own can.

"Bellamy Blake." Murphy states sternly.

"John Murphy." He says back just as forcefully, still blocking his mate's way.

"I'm going to get bored." He whines once he realizes that Bellamy's not going to let him out.

"You can read my books."

Murphy groans, "Those are only interesting when you read them." Immediately after he sees Bellamy's shit-eating grin he realizes that wasn't supposed to come out. "Shut up, don't even say it."

"I wasn't going to say anything." Bellamy jokes, but he clearly isn't paying attention as he thinks, crossing his arms and leamimg against a tent pole.

Silence grates against Murphy these days, and so he gets up, wrapping his arms around his mate. "Watcha thinking about?"

Bellamy returns the gesture quickly. "Just trying to figure out how to keep you in bed."

"Come up with a plan yet?" He grins as Bell's arms wrap tighter around him.

"Not really, I think breaking both your legs would be the only way."

Murphy pretends to think about the option for a second, before stating, "I could probably use my elbows to crawl."

"Probably." They both snicker after that and Bellamy thinks to himself that happiness is a really good look on Murphy. "Seriously though," the older man continues, "I don't want you taking a year to heal because you're stubborn."

"I don't really want that either, but I don't make the rules here. Murphy's law, man."

The elder sighs at the smirk on murphys face. "If I let you stay with me while I work, will you promise me to be careful?"

"Well, since you don't 'let' me do anything," Bellamy cuts off the rest of his sentence with a dark look, and Murphy sighs before starting over, "Yes."

At the agreement, the freckled man's face brightens. He grabs his sweater and O's pants, tossing them to Murphy. "Then get dressed."

 

He doesn't expect it to be fun, following Bellamy around all day. But it is. The job bores the shit out of him, but Bellamy always has some dumb joke to tell Murphy when he gets too antsy.

Bellamy's job, as it turns out, seems to be everything. He goes from arguing with Clarke to hunting with Miller to being a therapist for the delinquents, and even helping out in the smokehouse. 

He's still sorting the meat when Murphy goes outside to quickly get some air.

He leans against a log, almost wishing he's stayed in bed as his stitches throb. He hears footsteps and looks up to see some girl sit next to him.

"You look like you're having fun." She smirks, popping some berries into her mouth.

"Is there a reason you're here?" He quirks an eyebrow at her.

"My mate's still in the hospital." She shrugs, anger lacing her tone.

He has no idea what this bitch is talking about, and he's about to tell her as much, until she turns to fully look at him and he remembers her.

She was at the fight, near Lincoln. Sobbing as Bellamy beat the dumbasses. Snot was running down her face and her hair had gotten messed up somehow.

He smirks as it all clicks together, "You expect me to say sorry or something?"

"You're such a bitch."

"He's the one who wanted to fight in the first place. I'm not gonna feel bad for him. Or you."

She mumbles something as she stands to leave, he grabs the edge of her coat to stop her. "What'd you say?"

She states at him for a second, as if deciding if it's worth it, before saying "I feel bad for Bellamy. It must suck to have a mate as useless as you."

He rolls his eyes, he'd heard much worse before. She continued anyway, "I'm serious. He'd be better off without you. Look at all the problems you're causing him. Honestly, Brandon was doing him a favor." She tugs herself away from him at that, leaving.

She doesn't take her words with her, and they stay in Murphy's head long after she's left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed :)


	6. ...Must Come To An End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy starts putting the pieces together, and things start to pick up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note that I changed the story a bit: Anya hasn't met Raven yet. (Also Raven isn't injured yet.)
> 
> That's all~~~

"She's just a bitch." Murphy tells himself, shaking fingers rubbing at his tired eyes. "A bitch, that's all." His voice is just on the wrong side of hysterical, but that didn't matter.

What mattered was that she was _wrong_.

Maybe not about him being useless, but definitely about Bellamy being better off without him-- he was his mate. Everyone needed a mate.

"You okay?" Murphy startles, lifting his head to see Bellamy kneeling in front of him. 

"Yeah, I'm fine." The younger boy stutters out, the pain in his side making an appearance.

"You sure?" His voice is deep, steady. Murphy uses it to anchor himself.

"Of course." He tries to smile, completely aware that he doesn't pull it off. He stands, movements stiff and jerky. "I'll help you finish sorting the meat."

He manages to trip over his own feet and Bellamy raises his eyebrow, arms shooting out to steady the younger boy. "We're going to see Clarke."

"I already said that I'm fine." Murphy starts to protest, Bellamy cutting him off.

"I heard you. I'm not quite sure what that has to do with taking over her shift at the radio, though."

Murphy rolls his eyes, "You could have told me that in the first place."

"Maybe, but where's the fun in that?" He smirks, and Murphy suddenly becomes all too aware of Bellamy's hand still lingering on his waist. His fingers raise goosebumps on the pale skin, hitch Murphy's already weak breath.

Bellamy's smile has dropped by now but there's still laughter in his eyes as they dance between Murphy's own gaze and his lips.

They've both stopped breathing. "That really can't be healthy," Murphy thinks. But then again, how could it not be? This is what they were made for, after all.

He notices the small scar right above Bellamy's lip. For a fleeting moment he wants to know how he got it. He wants to know everything about the boy standing in front of him. Mostly, he just wants Bellamy to _fucking kiss him already_.

Bellamy must want that too, or maybe he just really needs to breath, because his grip on Murphy tightens--digging into far too prominent hip bones-- pulling him in.

The warmth of his mouth sends a current through Murphy's body. It makes his mark throb in the sweetest kind of way. If the quiet gasp Bellamy lets out is any indication, he feels it too. Still, he's gentle, lips slow; reminding Murphy _"I'm here-- I'm always gonna be here"_.

It isn't their first kiss but it feels like it is. They've always had passion and oh-god-am-I-doing-this-right; intensity and fuck-what-if-he-sees. This was different-- no mistakes, no pressure.

He balances on his toes to be closer to Bell but he doesn't deepen the kiss. It's already per--

The sound of obnoxiously loud clapping shocks them out of the kiss. Their heads turn to see the culprit but stay only centimeters away from one another. (Over. It's already over.)

They find Octavia and Raven making the raucous and Lincoln shaking his head behind them.

"You two put on quite the show." The mechanic grins, gesturing to the rather large audience they've acquired. They're whispering; some like school girls, giddy and carefree. Other's harsher, disgust clear in their faces.

"That was pretty good, Bell." Octavia starts, smirk already tugging at the corner of her mouth. "But I could probably give you some pointers on--"

Bellamy's face turns from exasperated to scandalized and he quickly announces that they're leaving, entwining Murphy's hand with his own and tugging him in the direction of the radio tent.

"Are those my pants, Murphy?" She screams after them, prompting another round of laughter from Raven.

 

 

"I said I don't want to talk to her!" Clarke yells just as the two make their way into the tent. She smashes her hand against the contraption in frustration, hitting every button at least twice. She quickly notices their presence, looking up at them worryingly from where her head is pressed into her palm. "Is there something wrong?"

"No," Bellamy assures her quickly, "Just thought you could use a break."

"You look like you could use one." Murphy lets himself drop into one of the makeshift seats.

She gives him a half-assed glare before turning her attention to the other leader. "I'm fine, I don't need a break."

"That radio sure does." Murphy snickers at his own joke, clearly proud.

"Shut up, Murphy." Bellamy sighs. Clarke can tell that it was meant to be reprimanding, but it reminds her more of when her parents would say 'I love you' to each other before they went to work. "You can't ignore her forever, you know." His gaze lingers on the other boy, even as he tells her.

"You can't ignore Jaha forever either."

"I'll figure something out. But she's your mom, Clarke, and they'll be coming down in a few weeks-- tops."

"She killed my father." The blonde seethes, effectively cutting off the conversation.

Bellamy settles down, mumbling a quiet 'okay'.

"Lets talk about something else." She stands, tying back her hair. Murphy busies himself with staring at the blood stains on her shirt, wondering how many different people they belong to. "Lincoln talked to the grounders, convinced them to arrange a meeting for tomorrow."

"A meeting? Clarke, these people want to kill us."

"They were afraid just like us. If we show them--"

"Afraid? The only thing those people know is bloodlust." Bellamy sneers. He remembers how awful Murphy looked when he first came back to camp; how afraid he was of everyone, of _him_.

"Lincoln is one of those people."

"He's different." He objects weakly.

"How? Look, we got off on the wrong foot with them. I can convince them that we don't need to stay on that path-- I know it. We have medical knowledge and technology that could help them. Besides, Lincoln said that his people believe soul mates are gifts from the gods. O and him prove that we can be mated together-- they wouldn't want to kill their mates."

Bellamy runs a hand through his hair, mouth opening like he's going to argue again. "It's a good idea, Bell." Murphy whispers to him, nudging the older boy gently with his shoe.

His defiance crumbles after that and he merely mumbles "Fine, but I'm bringing guns."

"I was hoping you'd say that." Clarke smiles tightly. Her gaze flickers down to Murphy, causing her to turn around quickly like she's just remembered something. "Lincoln and Finn agreed on no weapons, so we're going to have to be sneaky, though." She picks up her jacket, reaching into the pocket and pulling out a shit ton of leaves before pressing them into Murphy's hand.

He takes them hesitantly, using his other hand to secure them. "These are...?"

"We found them by the river. Lincoln says they can be used to stop nausea, if you eat them with your food."

"Nausea?" Bellamy looks back and forth between the two questioningly.

Murphy's fucked, unable to force any words to come out. He can't lie, not with her right there to fact check his story. Clarke steps up to the plate, hesitantly telling Bellamy "He has trouble keeping food down, he said you knew?"

The man stares at Murphy for a few more seconds, like he's some problem that that he's trying to solve. Whatever the answer is, he doesn't like it. His face darkens before he turns to Clarke, "Go get some rest "

She doesn't argue for once (of course, right when Murphy needs her) and she slips out into the night without looking back.

"Since when do you have trouble keeping food down?"

Murphy tries to seem nonchalant, shrugging. "Pretty recently, I must have caught some flu or something."

Bellamy rolls his eyes, "I've seen you eat and then spend the night with me. You don't have trouble keeping food down."

The younger boy stumbles over his words, all but praying for death at this point. Bellamy was more observant than people gave him credit for.

"Are you starving yourself?" Bellamy asks. Murphy knew the words were coming, but they still managed to shock him.

"No!" He wasn't starving himself. He ate as much as he could, that's all.

"Then give me an explanation, Murphy. A real one, none of that bullshit." He's pleading, practically begging Murphy to hand over his problems; to let Bellamy help him.

He wants to. He wants to so bad that he can practically feel the words climbing up his throat, but he can't. Bellamy wouldn't understand. He wouldn't understand how the hunger grounds him, keeps his head from flying away to the dark places; how it's a part of him. It's always been there. 

He can remember it on the Ark, when rations were scarce. Remembers it twisting his gut as his father was loaded into the air lock chamber, as his mother threw a bottle at his head, as the guards threw him into his cell. He'd felt it before his banishment and after; especially once the grounders got him.

Maybe he doesn't want to be helped. He _likes_ his hunger, his pain. It's been there when Bellamy hasn't. Besides, he isn't stupid, he isn't going to accidentally kill himself or anything.

He shakes his head, refusing to make eye contact with him.

"Why won't you ju--"

"Why won't you just leave me alone? God, Bellamy, why do you always do this? You're so possessive around anyone you care about. Hell, you almost lost Octavia because you couldn't just let her be her own person." His mate's face falls, he knows he should stop, and he wants to but he can't. "But did you learn? Of course not. You're pushing Clarke when she doesn't even want your help. You're pushing me and I don't need your help. I'm fine, Bellamy." Murphy laughs bitterly, backing away from the his mate and the tears in his eyes. "You know when I did need your help though? Back when everyone tried to _hang_ me. But did you help me, when I cried and begged you to?"

He waits for a few seconds, breathing quickly. "No, you didn't, _you absolute coward_." He leaves the room as quick as his feet can manage after the words leave his mouth.

 

The air helps clear Murphy's head immediately; so much that he's already calmed down before he even reaches his tiny tent.

God, he's so stupid.

None of that was even true-- well, it was, but none of it mattered. Murphy deserved to be hung, if not for Wells than for his dad. He'd forgiven Bellamy. He'd just wanted him to stop asking so many damn questions.

He stumbles to the scruffy blanket he used as a bed. What was it that girl said?

_"He'd be better off without you."_

Maybe he would. How many nights had Bellamy come in exhausted, only to be up with Murphy half the night anyway when he had a nightmare?

How many of the delinquents had gone from one of Bellamy's devoted followers to his one of his enemies?

Countless. All because of Murphy.

What was the point in having a mate if they were such a handful? If they had nothing to give? If they were to afraid to even take their shirt off in front of you? Bellamy was young, he had to expect sex at some point.

Murphy couldn't give that to him; couldn't give anything to him.

Fuck, she was _right_.


	7. It's Been A While (But I Still Feel The Same)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These two have a habit of ignoring their problems, and they're starting to see the outcome of that.
> 
> \+ Sad angsty talks
> 
> \+ They're both a mess

"Your room's a mess." Octavia tells him, coming inside the small tent without waiting for an invitation. The movement causes early morning sunlight to flood the broken place and he lets out a string of curses: his bloodshot eyes being attacked.

He'd spent the night crying instead of sleeping; still unsure of when sleeping next to Bellamy stopped being awkward and started being a necessity. "I don't care."

The younger Blake snorts, still carrying herself deeper into the space.

"Bellamy sent you?" He asks as he sits up slightly.

She nods, "He didn't give me any details though, just wanted to know you were alright before he leaves." Crap, he'd completely forgotten about the meeting. His heart leaps into his throat at the idea of Bellamy being anywhere near grounders and it takes him two, three tries to swallow it back down again.

He expects her to ask about the fight, or blame him for it, but she only busies herself with cleaning up. She lifts the nearest discarded item and finds a pair of pants--hers. "You can keep these, by the way." She smiles, all teeth and gums. He rolls his eyes and her grin only widens.

He keeps his cheek pressed to his bed, watching her until she's done, putting away the last book with a gentleness that he doesn't expect from someone like her.

"We're leaving soon." She says instead of goodbye. He can't tell if he's relieved or not to be alone again; still unsure of how bad his demons are going to be today.

He realizes he isn't going to find the answer once she peeks her head back in, breathing heavy, mere minutes later. "You should see him before we go." He gives her an annoyed look and she shoots a determined one back. "It's dangerous out there, ya know."

He groans at that, because he already knows that. Even if it wasn't dangerous at all, he'd find a way to worry about Bellamy. But that didn't mean he was getting out of bed, just to be in _that_ situation. Definitely not. No way in hell.

 

He makes it through the flap, O walking in first and holding it open for him, a triumphant looks on her face. 

"You're late." Bellamy informs her, voice empty. He doesn't look up from the tiny map lying on the table.

"Had to take a detour." She laughs out, perching herself against a tent pole. He looks up at the sound, eyes immediately clinging to Murphy.

The room moves unconsciously, providing space for him near his mate. He ignores the sentiment, squeezing himself between Clarke and Raven instead. Standing next to Bellamy wouldn't be a good idea. Neither was coming, really, but it was too late for that now.

They all give him questioning glances but he just focuses his gaze on Clarke until she continues to speak. "That's pretty much it. We'll be back before dark, so don't tell anyone we're gone." 

"Okay, since you guys are all caught up, we should leave now. Can't keep Lincoln waiting." Octavia tells them, voice dripping with excitement. Murphy can understand that, especially now. She practically pushes Finn out the door, grabbing Clarke's arm. "Hurry it up in here, Bell." She winks slightly, turning to go.

"Actually," Clarke starts, detaching herself. "Bellamy should stay here with the group." 

"What? Why?" Octavia asks, gaze moving back and forth between the two. Clarke gives Bellamy a quick make-something-up look.

"Um," He says, leaning closer to his sister, "Me and Murphy have some--um-- making up to do." He glares at Clarke, cursing her for ever telling Octavia that he was going in the first place.

It takes Octavia a minute to piece together his words, eyebrows scrunched together, but once she does her jaw drops, eyes lighting up. "That's disgusting." She exclaims, still grinning, "Well that's okay, Lincoln and I have some making up to do too." She informs him in her sweetest voice, skipping out. 

"Thats fucking awful, O!" He screams after her, almost completely sure that he was going to vomit.

Jasper looks just as scandalized as Bellamy, but Clarke, Raven, and even Murphy laugh into their hands, faces red. "That was amazing," Raven gets out between breathes before Bellamy gives her a look that could kill. "Fine, fine," She throws her hands up in surrender. 

"All we need you three to do is stay in the tree line and keep your eyes sharp. You shoot only if it is completely necessary, got it?" Clarke continues, back to business as usual, the flush on her face the only proof of her laughter, "I'll drop berries, so just follow that trail."

Once she finishes, she bids her friends goodbye and whispers a "stay safe" to each of them, Murphy included. Jasper and Raven wander outside too, giving the mates some space.

Murphy continues to stare at a random spot in the room, waiting, until it's clear that Bellamy isn't going to make the first move. "I'm sorry." He says, spitting the words like a weapon without meaning to.

Bellamy studies him for a bit, eyes not unkind. He hesitates before he speaks, measuring his words carefully. "There isn't anything to be sorry for."

"I shouldn't have done that." Murphy disagrees, shaking his head.

Bellamy waves the apology off, "There are plenty of things I shouldn't have done." His eyes bore into Murphy's, and they both know what he means. Betrayal, hanging, banishment. Dozens of punches. Hundreds of insults.

He doesn't say that he's sorry. They both already know that he is--have known since the moment he committed the acts. He made a mistake and, true to his nature, he covered it up with aggression and denial. It was easier to paint Murphy as the villain than it ever would have been to admit what exactly that made himself.

(He doesn't say sorry because he could never be sorry enough.)

Murphy finally gets a good look at him, in all his awful glory. His eyes are tired and his knuckles are split, still swollen and caked in dried blood. That's new, so he wants to ask how it happened, but he supposes that it doesn't really matter. They've both had worse. Their bodies prove it; from the scars on their necks to Bellamy's knuckles to the angry lines that make a bed for Bellamy's name on Murphy's wrist. "There isn't anything to be sorry for." Murphy holds in his sigh, smirking lightly at him instead.

Bellamy doesn't say anything back and it's quiet. Murphy finally makes his way to the table that Bellamy's leaning against, lifting himself onto it. They don't touch.

"Are you forgiving me because you think that I deserve it, or because you think that you don't?"

"What do you mean?" His feet touch the floor. They never did before.

"It isnt real forgiveness if you think you deserved it."

"I didn't kill Wells, Bellamy." The words are exhausted, repeated over and over by him and everyone else.

His mother told him once that if you repeat something enough it loses its meaning. If you see the moon rise enough it just becomes 8 p.m. You see the same tragedy every day, and one day you'll stop caring. You make the same mistake over and over, eventually you'll stop calling it a mistake.

When he was in lockup, he used to tell himself that his father was dead. All the time. He lets the words slice his tongue until it was so numb that he couldn't feel them anymore.

"We both know that doesn't mean anything to you." Bellamy's voice is hoarse; it might not mean anything to Murphy anymore, but it'll always mean too much to him. Repetition has never healed him like it had Murphy; it's only ever reopened his wounds.

It's true, so Murphy nods. He digs his shoe into the dirt as he tries to remember how to speak. "Both, I guess," His voice trails off and he tries again, "The second one, mostly-- I think." The truth rushes to the surface without permission, passing his walls as if they'd never even been there. 

It's the first time he's ever voiced his anger at Bellamy, or his hatred for himself. Even now, he doesn't really say it, just makes it known. It's enough for Bellamy though, and the man rips his gaze from Murphy's to turn his head the opposite way. 

He's never really been able to cry in front of other people.

Murphy's always had too much luck in that department. His eyes start to well up and he doesn't bother fighting it. He stares at his knees, hiccuping slightly as tears fall.

It doesn't more than a few seconds for Bellamy to sense the change, but he doesn't acknowledge it. Doesn't know how to. So he simply leans his shoulder against Murphy's, letting the younger boy dampen his shirt. He wasn't good with emotion, could hardly recognize his own, so it wasn't enough. But it was something.

His fingers ache to thread with Murphy's, but he doesn't let them. They don't deserve to. Murphy's fingers twitch toward his too, but the younger boy curls them into his own shirt instead. Something about that-- and the way Murphy's crying, calm and expectantly-- crushes the little willpower Bellamy has left.

_Fuck, he's going to cry._

He stands up too quickly, startling the other, and grips his gun tightly. "I have to go, " He tells him softly as he can, rushing to the door before Murphy can see the tears. Still, he hesitates before he leaves, hands tangling in the flaps material. "I'm sor-- I'm gonna fix this." He says, voice too rough.

"Okay." Murphy says, trying to sound much more apathetic than he is. He winces slightly when it backfires.

Bellamy nods, mostly to himself, "I will."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! It's been a while, I know, sorry I'm the worst lmao. I kept trying to make the chapter longer, but it all just seemed forced, ya know?
> 
> *Unedited*


	8. I'll Fight My Corner (Then Maybe Tonight, I'll Hold Ya)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The meeting happens, and fails (as per usual)
> 
> Bellamy's a nervous dad
> 
> Raven's sad + confused (and also totally wants to be friends with Murphy)
> 
> Jasper's just oblivious and hungry

Bellamy leans down picking up another bright red berry. He looks down at his palm, filled with the small objects. That makes eight. Clarke had brought 10 with her to leave as a path for them.

Raven leans closer to him, peering at the food. "We should be there soon?"

Bellamy nods. His eyes flit behind them towards the camp, towards Murphy, subconsciously. His worry for the younger boy seems to grow with each step he takes- despite the fact that _he's_ the one going to meet with savages.

"Worried?" Jasper asks, catching up to them. He raises a brow as he reaches into the pile and pops one into his mouth.

Bell scrunches his face at the act and dumps the rest of the berries into Jasper's grasp. "Something like that." He admits, brushing it off.

"He's too good for you, ya know." Raven jumps in, knocking her shoulder against his.

The leader smiles brightly, pushing back against her. "Since when do you like Murphy?"

"I don't," she insists with a fake nonchalance, "he's just a hell of a lot better than you."

Bellamy snorts, unbothered. He likes how easily his friends had accepted Murphy-- he needed that.

"Don't act like you aren't just as whipped." Jasper jokes, head thrown back and body shaking with laughter.

The mechanic's smile falls slightly but it soon grows again. "You're just jealous goggles."

 

They reached the bridge late afternoon, right behind Clarke and the others. Raven spots a semi-clear area and they settle down, guns drawn. They're all peering through their scopes by the time Lincoln jogs out of the forest line, leading his people onto the bridge.

Octavia starts to run towards him too, neither stopping until their bodies crash into each other. He lifts her up, holding her tightly.

From his spot amongst the trees Bellamy does his best to suppress his oncoming eyeroll. Octavia was growing up, sure, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

The rest of the grounders start falling into place and Lincoln ushers Octavia to her people's side of the bridge.

"They have horses." Raven mumbles, eyes widening in awe.

The creatures, or maybe the people riding them, seem to spook Clark. She moves backwards slightly until Finn slots his hand into hers.

Bellamy furrows his brows at the two. He isn't sure what that means exactly, but he knows that Raven doesn't like it; can feel her body tense up beside his. He doesn't take his eyes off of the scene on the bridge, especially now that Clark seems scared, but he nudges her lightly. "Hey, you alright?" 

"I'm fine." She isn't, and they all know it. It was common knowledge that part in Finn had gotten together before Raven came down-- but judging by her face now, Bellamy found it difficult to believe that they'd ever stopped.

"It probably doesn't mean anything," Jasper whispers, "I hold Monty's hand all the time--"

"I said I'm fine." She exclaims through clenched teeth. It isn't a scream, but it feels like it in the quiet. If they'd been any closer, the others would have definitely heard.

"...okay. Someone doesn't want to talk." He huffed, flinching slightly.

"Shut up. Keep your eyes sharp." Bell reminds them, just in time for the grounder leader to step off of her horse. She was a unique woman, all dark shadow and twisting braids that fell down her back, drawing Raven's attention.

Clarke closes the gap in between them and raises her hand, as if to shake the other woman's. The grounder simply stares at it until Clarke lets it fall. 

It's impossible to make out what they're saying, but it clearly isn't going well. "Grounder Princess looks pissed." Jasper whispers. 

"Our princess has that affect." Bellamy shrugs. 

Jasper shakes his head, "No, this isn't good."

"Calm down, goggles." Raven rolled her eyes. "You're being paranoid."

The boy ignores her, focusing his gaze into scope. "They're in the trees!"

Bell and Raven share a look quickly before finding their gazes towards the trees. Sure enough, grounders line the treetops. 

One has a spear raised towards the bridge, but before either can react they hear a gun fire. Again and again.

The bullets turn the forced calm into chaos. The warrior's start to throw their weapons, and the other two start to fire in hopes of keeping their friends safe. Raven catches sight of grounder princess with a knife raised towards Clarke and quickly shoots her, the bullet hitting her wrist right after she slashes the blonde's stomach. 

" **Fuck**." Raven whispers, almost dropping her gun as pain shoots through her own arm.

"They hit you?" Bell asks her without looking, still shooting. 

"Not yet." She tells him, eyebrows knitting together as she lifts her gun once more. 

 

The grounders retreat, bullets still following them. Finn runs to Clarke once it's clear, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." She brushes him off, "it isn't deep." He still doesn't look convinced, lifting her shirt slightly to look at the wound, relieved to find it hardly more than a scratch. 

"Get them back home!" Lincoln tells the other man, exhaustion in his voice. He ignores Octavia's protests of going with him, giving her a chaste kiss before running after his people. 

The trio finally make their way up, meeting their friends. 

Octavia narrows her eyes immediately, marching towards Bellamy. "What is wrong with you? Lincoln said no guns!"

"They had archers in the trees, O. You think they were gonna let you guys leave here alive?" Bellamy's face scrunches with disbelief. 

"They might have, if you hadn't attack them first." She screams, throwing her hands up in frustration. 

"And that's a gamble you're willing to make? Based on the honor of _grounders_ ?" He asks. 

She shakes her head, "Don't you get it? Lincoln set up this meeting, who do you think they're going to blame now, Bellamy? Do you even care about that?"

He sighs, calming slightly. " We didn't have a choice, O." She ignores him, attempting to stomp off into the woods. He grabs her arm to stop her, "It's not safe--"

"There aren't any grounders here, Bellamy, " She yanks her arm out of his hold, continuing to walk away. "You made sure of that."

Finn looks down at Clarke. "You brought them?"

"We needed back up." She says, voice unwavering. 

Finn runs his hands through his hair in frustration, "No, we didn't. What we needed was this meeting and your guns ruined it." He tugs a little harder at his follicles and sighs, "You didn't have to trust the grounders, you just had to trust me."

Clarke opens her mouth like she's going to speak but nothing comes out. Instead she just stands there, a hurt look on her face. "Hey, it isn't _her_ fault." Raven tells him, anger clear in her features. She steps in between him and Clarke, arms crossed over her chest.

They can all tell that the argument has shifted by now, from Clarke's innocence to something deeper, more personal. Bellamy breaks the silence, looking at the group nervously. "We should get going; it'd be best to make it home before dark." They all, excluding Finn and Raven, mumble agreements and start to make the journey back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Two chapters in a row, how great is that?
> 
> Sorry it's a Murphy-less chapter, but it was necessary for the plot and all that jazz.
> 
> Also, my birthdays in like two hours and I'm exciiiiiited. Anyone wanna guess how old I'll be? (Also A++ for finishing the note)
> 
> *Unedited*


	9. War is Coming (I'm Running to You)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy and Murphy are reunited and people get sick.

"They're back!"

"Bellamy's with them!"

"Come on!"

Murphy hears the screams, his heartbeat soaring. He tries to calm himself down now that he knows Bellamy's okay but it doesn't quite work. He needs to see Bellamy for himself, but his feet seem routed to dirt that he's standing on. What if Bellamy was hurt? Was he ready to see that?

Monty jogs to the gate, pulling at Murphy's sleeve lightly as he passes. "He's back, Murphy." 

That gets him going. He doesn't run, but he certainly doesn't walk either. He thankfully isn't far behind and it only takes him a few seconds to reach the place, pushing his way through yet another crowd.

They've only just gotten in, but Bellamy's eyes are already wide and searching. They lock eyes almost immediately, and Murphy feels the weight on his chest lift slightly. Clarke's got an arm slung over his shoulder, bits of t-shirt bunched over her side, stained red.

Murphy runs now, helping hold her weight. "I'm fine," she protests weakly. "It's not that deep." 

He looks over her head to Bellamy for confirmation and the older man nods, just as confused. The wound was little more than a scratch. It bled a lot, sure, but it made no sense for her to be this disoriented. 

They get her to the makeshift hospital and Finn takes her from them, carrying her inside. They stall near the entrance, both looking for words to say. But Bellamy has learned over and over on the ground that words don't always mean anything, so instead he grips Murphy's arm gently and pulls them to the nearest log.

They sit quietly for a few minutes, both little surprised when it's Murphy that speaks first. "I'm glad you're okay." He tells him. Distance _must_ make the heart grow fonder, because Bellamy's so openly staring at him now that he's uncomfortable, fidgeting fingers tugging at a loose thread on the shirt. "You are okay, right?"

"Yeah," Bellamy assures him, smiling down in his lap. "I'm alright, Murph."

"Good, because it'd been really annoying if I got a soulmate that dies like a week into--"

"Shut up." Bellamy tells him, laughter shaking his body.

"It would." Murphy insists, but he's laughing too.

"So," Bellamy breathes out once their chuckles have died down. "About our talk..."

Murphy physically winces, not ready to deal with that now. Especially not with all of these eyes on them; many of the delinquents openly staring. He has to avoid rolling his eyes at all of them, because they cannot honestly be _that_ interesting. "Do we have to do this now?" He sighs, still glaring at the shameless crowd.

"I guess not." Bellamy gives in, following Murphy's gaze. "But we _are_ going to talk about it later."

"Looking forward to it." Sarcasm drips from each word, making Bellamy smile mischievously.

"Murph?"

Murphy makes a noise of acknowledgment, finally turning back to lock eyes with his mate. The next thing he knows, Bellamy is kissing him, hard and hungry. One of his hands trails down Murphy's jaw, the other wrapping around his waist. Murphy's not sure exactly what's going on but he's certainly into it. His tongue battles Bellamy's for dominance, fighting a useless battle.

"Fucking hell." Someone mutters. Bellamy breaks the kiss at the words, prompting a needy groan to escape from Murphy's throat at the loss. The sound makes Bellamy's mouth morph into a shit eating grin and Murphy kinda wants to slap it off. Instead he turns to the speaker, finding Raven. "Yes?"

The mechanic is the most amused he's ever seen her. "We're having a meeting so if you two wanna speed this up, that'd be great." She gives them a thumbs up before ducking back into the opening.

"She has to be doing this on purpose." Murphy insists, rolling his eyes. Raven Reyes: cockblock of the year. "What was that for, by the way?" He asks, chest still rising too quickly.

Bellamy stands, holding his hand out for Murphy to take. "Might as well give them a show, right?" He replies, tilting his head towards their audience as he lifts up his mate. The younger boy grips him tightly, knees still a little weak.

"Oh--yeah. Good...um...plan." He mumbles, cheeks burning. He leads them inside, their hands still entwined.

"I thought so."

 

The blonde looks worse than she had before, sweat shining on her, far too pale, forehead. She had been laying on a cot, but she sits up as soon as she spots them. "Are you okay?" Bellamy rushes to her side, dragging Murphy with him.

"I'm fine." She waves him off, sitting up. "Just a scratch." She assures them for what seems like the hundredth time. "Murphy however, could still rip his stitches if--"

"Don't finish that sentence." He warns her, already annoyed. Bellamy had _just_ stopped nagging him about that.

She puts her hands up on surrender. "That isn't the point of this meeting anyway."

"Then what is the point?" Bellamy inquires.

"The point is that the grounder alliance," Raven says, glancing at Finn with exasperation, "is obviously not going to happen."

"So we're making war plans." Murphy mumbles, "Great."

She laughs bitterly, "Oh, it gets better. Make sure those plans don't rely on guns, since this," She pulls two handfuls of bullets from her pocket, "is all we have."

"That's it?" Clarke blanched, mouth forming an 'o'.

Raven sighs. "Yep, I can try to make split loads--turn one into two-- but they aren't guaranteed to work after that."

Clarke's silent for a second, weighing her options. "Okay."

"Okay? Clarke, this is suicide." Bellamy exclaims, running a hand down his face.

"This is our only choice." She snaps at him before she turns to Raven. "Do what you can. Please."

Raven agrees, yanking Finn outside with her, the man clearly wishing to stay.

"Clarke, they're going to retaliate."

She stands, throwing her jacket on. "I know."

"Soon."

"I know." She inhales sharply when she lifts her hands to free her hair from her collar, but she continues until the task is done anyway.

"If those bullets don't work, we're all going to die."

"I know that too." She assures him, "But we'll worry about that later. We have to so something else right now."

"And that would be...?" His voice trails off, already aware he isn't going to like it.

"I'm going to talk to my mother, and you're talking to Jaha."

"No." He deadpans, shaking his head immediately.

"Look, they're going to be coming down soon. Which is good, we clearly need their help. But it isn't gonna be good for you if you don't resolve this. Now." She's taken on a no nonsense tone now.

"I'll--"

"What--figure something out? Live in the woods? That isn't fair to Octavia, or anyone else." She says, looking pointedly towards Murphy during the last part.

Bellamy looks up to the ceiling in annoyance for a minute before he grabs his own jacket regretfully. "Fine."

"You should should get some rest." Clarke tells Murphy, "You haven't been taking it easy."

"Yeah, sure." He shrugs noncommittaly. 

"Murphy--" Bellamy starts, ready to argue.

"I will, okay?" He says, even though it's clearly a lie. 

Bellamy wants to keep at it but he remembers Murphy yelling at him about how he pushes everyone too much, so he stops. "Okay." He steps forward to squeeze Murphy's shoulder quickly before going with Clarke.

 

Murphy finds himself with nowhere interesting to go, wandering around camp. He feels relatively safe, no one wanting to start trouble with Bellamy in hearing distance. Not that he'd be deterred even if they did want to start trouble.

He suddenly hears a small popping sound from one of the nearby tents and then Raven shouting "Fuck!" He goes against his better judgement and walks to the tent, lifting the flap slightly but not walking inside. "Hey?"

"Murphy?" She asks, turning towards him.

"The one and only." He winks at her obnoxiously. "You sound like you're having fun."

"Just trying to save everyone's ass, you know the usual." She grins tightly, making room for him near the table.

"Can't say I know how you feel." He laughs, coming to stand near her. "Want help?"

She gives him a curious look but splits the tiny pile nonetheless. "You have to do it like this." She shows him the steps slowly, patient in a way he'd never thought her to be. "Careful though, or you'll blow your face off. And then Bellamy will probably try to fight me."

Murphy smirks, doing his best to recreate the moves. "He seems to like doing that." He agrees, exasperation clear in his features.

"Consider yourself lucky." She tells him, an edge of something he can't describe in her tone.

He thinks about her own mate, "Where's Finn?"

"I wouldn't know." Murphy gives her a look and she continues, admitting "We don't talk much anymore."

Murphy just nods, not usually one to pry. He continues to split the loads, succeeding in almost killing them twice. But Raven must really need the help, or the company, because she doesn't tell him to stop.

"Why can't we just make a bomb." Murphy whines once he realizes it's actually hard work. "Our ancestors had the right idea."

"Not funny, Murphy." Raven mutters, cursing when she drops some of the gun powder. 

"I'm so serious."

"If only we had the supplies." She says wishfully, wiping up the spill. Once she gets the powder in her palm her body freezes, eyes widening slightly.

"You good?" He asks her hesitantly, nudging her.

"You're a genius" She exclaims, looking up at him.

He just stares back at her like she's crazy. "Well, yes, I am. But you figured it out how?"

"We have gun powder," She raises her full hand to eye level, as if that explained everything.

"...Okay." He replies, moving to get all the explosives away from her.

"Don't you get it? We live in a drop ship full of explosive fuel. And now we have gun powder!" Her usual stressed look falls away, something a little like joy replacing it. " _We can make a bomb_."

"Reply?" He gawks.

She nods, "It'd be a little rudimentary, sure, and we'd only have one chance but still, it'd be a bomb."

Murphy breathes out a sigh of relief. They might not die. That'd be nice.

Someone bursts in the room and they both turn to spot a familiar mop of blonde hair. Clarke looks startled, like she hadn't expected them to be there either. "Oh...how's it going in here?" She asks.

"We have a plan. If I take some of the engines fuel--" Clarke's already nodding, clearly not listening. "Hey," Raven says gently, stepping closer to the other girl. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Clarke's voice cracks and Murphy remembers that she was supposed to talk to her mom. _That can't have gone well._ He just hopes Bellamy's talk with Jaha went better.

Her wet eyes finally spill, and Murphy gasps as blood runs down her face. Him and Raven share a wide eyed look. "Clarke-- your eyes!" 

The blonde touches her face, moving her hand back in shock when it comes back red. Her nose starts dripping too and Raven pulls a dirty rag off the table to hand to her.

"Clarke!" Somebody outside yells; the trio running out to meet the commotion. "Oh god," Clarke mumbles when they find nearly two dozen people milling about, frantically wiping at their bloody orifices. One of the kids vomits on another, and then all hell breaks loose.

The delinquents push at each other, screaming. "Don't touch me!" "Get off!" "That's so gross!" 

One of the guys pushes a sick girl harder than necessary, making her fall to the ground. "Calm the fuck down."Murphy tells him, grabbing his arm. 

He's actually expecting the punch that he receives about two seconds after the kid turns to face him. "Back off!" Raven barks, running towards them.

A shot rings out, all of them halting to look at Clarke, her pistol held high in the air. "If you're bleeding, go to the drop ship." She orders, right as Octavia runs up to them.

"It's already starting." She whispers, looking at Clarke in horror.

"What's starting?" Bellamy demands, walking up to them in a blood soaked shirt.

"I went to find Lincoln--"

"You went alone?" Bellamy all but growls.

"I had to see if he was okay," She tells him unapologetically, "It's a good thing I did. He said that Anya poisoned the blade she stabbed Clarke with."

"Poisoned?" They all ask, jaws falling open.

"Well, no, not exactly. It's a sickness, but most survive it. They don't use it to kill--"

"What do they use it for?" 

Octavia glares at Bellamy for interrupting, "They use it to soften the battlefield." She pauses as they all grasp what she means. "They arrive at dawn."

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, please leave kudos or comment if you want another chapter for Murphamy so I can see if you all actually like it haha. Feel free to submit any prompts/ ideas at my tumblr: http://devotedlydecaffeinatedtyrant.tumblr.com/ (I'm always feedback thirsty)


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